


Shoulda Stayed Home

by WeWillSpockYou



Category: Chris Pine - Fandom, Karl Urban - Fandom, Urbine - Fandom
Genre: Awkward Sex, Karl Wants Extra Pickles, M/M, Panties, Shower Sex, Tanned Leopard, stupid boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:21:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1986240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeWillSpockYou/pseuds/WeWillSpockYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris Pine and Karl Urban are going on vacation together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Captain’s Log, Stardate 2014.200. Day One:  It’s all fun and games until you get to the airport. I thought I was prepared to travel with Hurricane Urban… I was wrong.

 

“Shoes in one bin, laptops in another.” The raspy, three pack per day voice of the TSA agent called out to all of us in the cattle line.

“What a colossal pain in my arse, Chris.” Karl moaned, yet again.

“We’re almost there.” I soothed. Who could have predicted Karl Urban would be such a cranky traveler. His smile is non-stop to the point of nausea most times. Karl is the one who makes seventeen hour days on a movie set fun, but to be honest, I’ve been ready to kill him with the hard edge of my driver’s license for about forty-five minutes now. I think I could get away with it too. I’ve got ninja skills not many people know about.

“Christ Chris, the world has died and been reborn twice since we started standing in this fuckin’ queue.”

I grip my license harder in my left hand and try to breathe through the urge to kill him.

I’ve been looking forward to this vacation for months. We’ve both been working our arses (SNORT) off and have barely seen each other. Yeah, we Skype and send texts, but it’s not the same as being together. So, needless to say I am a bit put off by Karl’s constant complaining. This is not the way I envisioned the start of our vacation.  Then again, I never envisioned wanting to see Karl lying at my feet in a bloody heap. I pocket my license and try to come up with a better strategy.

He’s wearing green checked shorts and an obnoxious tee shirt which reads, “Geeks Do It At Warp Speed.” It’s obnoxious in theory alone. Karl may talk at warp speed but he fucks like a glacier, slowly and powerfully. Which reminds me, did I pack the lube? I know I packed it but then we ran out last night and I had to dip into the vacation supply for round three. Fuck, I think I may have left it on the nightstand. We’re only going to the Bahamas, surely they must have lube. Foreign countries use lube, don’t they?

“Not takin’ my damn shoes off man, this is total fucking, bullshit.” Karl’s harsh whisper pulls me out of my discussion with myself about lube around the globe.

I turned to him with coldest look I can muster. “Look, you have two choices here, do what the fucking TSA tells you or stay home. I’m going on this trip with or without your sulky ass.

Since I am next in line I turn away from my infant boyfriend and take my shoes off like an obedient cow and chuck them in the first bin I can find. I grab a second one and start pulling my laptop out of the bag when I realize the person standing next to me is NOT Karl Urban, but some teenaged kid with too loud music pounding out from around his headphones. Well fuck, when did I become _that_ guy?

I crane my head around this kid to see Karl standing about ten feet away, still wearing his shoes and his laptop is in its bag, slung across his torso. His arms are crossed over his chest and he’s wearing a mutinous look on his handsome face.  Fuuuuuuck. Of all the times for him to melt down and need a nap and juice box, this is the worst possible moment ever.  FML.

We’re so close, so damned close. All I need to do is get him through security and we’re home free. One week of fun in the sun will be all ours if I can find a way to get Karl to cooperate. “Baby, come on.” I whisper to him. “It’s just for a few minutes and when we’re done, I’ll get you a sandwich.” I bat my eyelashes at him, hoping that the offer of food will sway him. Here’s a spoiler alert for all of you, Karl’s weakness is food. He’ll sell his own mother for a perfectly rare ribeye.

His sour little face turned thoughtful. “With extra pickles?”

Gotcha, you beautiful grumpy bastard. Do I know my Kiwi or do I know my Kiwi? “You can have as many pickles as you want Boo Bear.”

He nodded glumly and plucked his shoes off, dropping them into the nearest bin. Just before I turned away from him, I saw a ghost of a smile at my use of his much “hated” nickname.

I was standing in the body scanner when an alarm buzzed in the area of the x-ray machine. When I stepped out of the glass encased machine I could see the TSA rifling through my carry-on bag. A ham-fisted agent pulled a large bottle out of my bag and set it on the counter. So there was good news and bad news. The good news was that I hadn’t forgotten the lube after all. The bad news was now it belonged to the TSA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is based on my experience with the TSA on my recent trip to Georgia. This happened to me in the Savannah airport. I was NOT carrying illicit lube!
> 
> This vacation is not off to the best start is it?? I wonder if it will get any better as we go on? More to come! 
> 
> I always say I want to write more Urbine so that's what I am going to do!! There will be updates to this, I am not sure yet of the timeline!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl and Chris have made it to their hotel room mostly intact...

Captain’s Log, Stardate 2014.200. Day One Continued:  Thinking our dealings with the TSA were at an end, Karl and I settled in for a long, mostly uneventful flight to the Bahamas. After the incident with the cocktail peanuts, I should have known things wouldn’t stay uneventful for long…

 

“Motherfucker!”

This is NOT good. Karl hates that word. I, on the other hand use it with reckless abandon.

We managed to make it to the hotel with no other problems. A miracle in itself so far as I figure after the incident with the cocktail peanuts which we have both agreed under penalty of death never to speak of again. Karl is in our bedroom unpacking like a good little soldier. Can you believe he saluted me with his ‘fuck you’ finger when I called him that? Anyway, he’s unpacking and I am searching, fruitlessly it turns out, for the key to the mini-bar. Motherfucker is right. Wisely, I call room service to ask about the missing key and to order some Grey Goose. No, I tell the person on the other line I don’t want a martini, I want the whole (motherfucking) bottle, sans glasses. I’m fucked if I have the time to pour it into a glass when Karl Urban is “motherfuckering” in our bedroom.

“Motherfuckin’ panty pawing motherfuckers.” Floats down the hall from the bedroom just as I am signing the room service bill. I gently ask the attendant if he can bring me another bottle, in between covert giggles, that is. My life won’t be worth shit if Karl hears me laughing when he’s in a “motherfucker” mood.

I manage to get the top off my bottle and take a long healthy swig, like a pirate, yo-ho! Well, if pirates drank high quality vodka (wodka!) rather that some kind of rot gut rum. The cool liquid burns all the way down my throat. I’m not sufficiently lubed to deal with the butt-hurt I’m about to face, but I man up anyway and step “ _Once more unto the breach_ , dear friends, once more.” I am also way too melodramatic for my own good which serves me well since we are in “motherfucker” mode here at Casa de Loco. Guess I’m more lubed up than I thought if I’m quoting Shakespeare in one breath and speaking Spanish with the next.

“Something wrong, Boo Bear?” I hold my breath and pray Karl’s “hated” nickname makes him smile. It doesn’t. Fuuuuuuck.

“Yeah, Pinenut, there’s something wrong. Motherfucking panty pawing TSA went through my suitcase.” He’s shaking a long, narrow white piece of paper in his hand. I manage to wrestle the paper away from him and it’s a note from the TSA letting Karl know they went through his luggage. I’m chewing on the inside of my left cheek to keep from laughing, which of course would be a big mistake. Karl has his eyebrow arched to God, ‘cause Lord knows, no pun intended, He is the only one who can help him now, what with Karl’s worry crease looking like the damned Grand Canyon between his eyebrows.

“Maybe you should have just taken your damned shoes off the first time they asked.”

Karl’s look turned murderous. Tell my mother I love her and please make sure someone deletes my internet browsing history.

“I’m missing every damn pair of fucking knickers I packed and you’re going on about my damned shoes, Chris?” His look has gone from murderous to mystified, as in he can’t possibly kill someone this fucking stupid.

“What do your- PFFFTTT…” JESUS take the wheel, I can’t say this without laughing. “What do your…” SNORT “Knickers...” OH fuck! “Have to do with the TSA?” I can’t wait to hear the answer to this even though Karl is still looking at me like I am dumb as dirt.

He sighs and shakes his head before scrubbing his hands over his angry, little heart-shaped face. “Pay attention Christopher, the motherfucking TSA stole my motherfucking underroos.”

“HA!” I shout out, I can’t help it. “So you’re telling me the TSA pawed then purloined your boxers?” I’m laughing so hard my vision is graying out at the edges.

“Knock off with the $20 words, Funk and Wagnalls.”

I’m flat on the floor howling now, slapping my hand against the soft carpet like a wrestler tapping out. Which in essence, I am.  I’m holding my belly with my other hand because it hurts so much from laughing .

“Are you sure they’re gone, Karl?” I’ve managed to get myself back under control, but it’s not gonna take much to set me off again.

“Yes, Chris. I’ve been through my things three times and they are gone.” He sounds tired and defeated or should that be debriefed? I’m back to laughing like an asthmatic seal as Karl storms from the room.

“Where’re you going, Kiwi?” I’m afraid of the answer.

“Gonna check Ebay, make sure the TSA is charging a fair price.”

“So, what, you’re gonna buy them back?”

“Fuck off, Pinenut.” He yells cheerfully.

The path to “twue wuv” never did run smooth.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On my recent trip to Georgia I opened my suitcase to find this note from the TSA. I immediately christened them "Panty pawing motherfuckers." Wouldn't you know it, the name stuck!
> 
> I did not forget my panties on this trip, however NaughtyPastryChef's wonderful mother in law did on a recent trip and I had to steal her misfortune. Karl's underroos were not stolen he just left them at home. He is a victim of packing, unpacking and repacking his suitcase!! He should have just taken his shoes off the first time he was asked...
> 
> Chris and I being English majors quote Shakespeare...A LOT! 
> 
> The last line about "Twue Wuv" is a nod to The Princess Bride and to NaughtyPastryChef who forced me, ermm asked me, yeah asked me if I would watch it with her.
> 
> Many thanks to ReadItHoney for passing her pretty eyes over this one!
> 
> Up next: Karl gets himself some new panties, errrm underpants, yeah...underpants!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl and Chris are on the hunt for underpants!

 

Captain’s Log, Stardate 2014.200. Day One continued, again: I used to wonder if foreign countries were as lube crazy as the United States. Happily, the answer is pineapple flavored. Now I realize the problem with other countries is underwear, specifically men’s underwear…

 

We’re standing in the posh boutique on the first floor of our hotel. Karl is on the verge of tears or is about to go “Hulk SMASH.” I’m not sure which, but I gotta tell you, I’m rooting for the latter because what about this day so far has been easy?

Thankfully, eBay was not offering “Urban Underpants” for bid or outright purchase which managed to quiet the storm. However, I can’t help but think we’ve missed a golden marketing and sales opportunity. I would have been interested in seeing how high the Urban fangirls and boys would have sent the bidding. This, in turn could have led to a whole line of Urban inspired products, culminating with the oft wished for Karl Urban Dildo Collection, everyone should have a piece of Karl Urban shoved up their…

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” It’s the salesman and I jump a country mile and may have even squealed, so deep was I inside my own genius ad slogan, “Nothin’ says lovin’ like Karl Urban in your muffin!” Not exactly original but maybe Pillsbury won’t notice.

I can hear Karl mumbling, “knickers” to the salesman and he’s leading us off in the direction of the men’s department.   Karl’s mood had gotten better once he’d discovered his unmentionables were not available for public consumption. I somehow managed to avoid adding the word, “yet” to his statement of current fact. I mean hell, those TSA guys work long shifts or maybe they are trying to come up with a cute slogan, not as cute as MY slogan, before posting the purloined panties for purchase.

Can you guess what or rather who saved my bacon? None other than Bones himself. I mentioned to my curmudgeony Kiwi that Bones would approve of going commando on shore leave, maybe he had even done it himself a time or two. Mentioning Bones always makes my uber-Urban geek smile. Annnnd since he was willing to smile, I or Captain Kirk, rather was willing to suck him off. It’s all about give and take, you know?

So here we are in the boutique and I am praying to any deity who will listen for underpants. It’s an odd thing to pray for, I know, especially once you’ve seen Karl Urban in all of his naked, tanned, broad shouldered glory, but I needed something to get this vacation out of the little black storm cloud that has been over our heads since the airport.

The salesman leads us to the undergarment section of the store and there is a large, empty space where all of the men’s sized large underpants should have been. Apparently the TSA has had a busy and fruitful day (Should that be a Fruit Of The Loom day?) of underpants thievery. I’m biting my cheek again to avoid laughing.

Well let me correct myself there, not ALL of the size large underroos were sold out, there was a lovely selection of what I would affectionately refer to as banana hammocks. So much WIN!

I can see the color rising up Karl’s neck. “Don’t say a word.” He cautioned and I can hear the Enterprise’s red alert siren wailing in my head. I let a giggle slip and wonder if Karl can hear the siren too, which would be annoying as fuck considering it’s probably been going off since this morning. Fuck, was it really just this morning all of this started?

“I think-”

“Not wearing butt floss, Chris.” Karl is pretty adamant, but I don’t let that stop me.

“But-” I can see the mental pic of Karl Fucking Urban in the red butt floss and I may need a minute to myself here, please stand by.

“NO!”

“Fine, but now what, commando?” Hold on, I may need another moment alone here.

“Can’t go commando.” He whispers low to me.

“Why not, Boo Bear?” I’m rubbing his lower back trying to seem supportive, when in actuality I’m really hoping he grabs some floss and my hand and hauls me into one the changing rooms for dinner and a show. If you know what I mean?

“It chafes my dick.” He looks around conspiratorially before whispering again.

“Well that settles it, can’t have your cock out of commission, now can we?” I wink and go in search of our salesman who is standing nearby fiddling with the display of ties as a cover for listening in on our conversation. Say what you will about how badly this vacation has sucked so far, but that is nothing compared to what would happen if “Big Karl” were unavailable for pony rides for the duration of this trip. I tell the salesman what I need and his eyes light up; he can see dollar signs now and not just for the merchandise I’m asking about.

He motions us both to follow him and I can see Karl getting ready to go all Hulk SMASH again as the man leads us into the women’s department.

Karl grabs my hand and whispers an unduly harsh, “Are you outta your fucking mind, Captain Underpants?”

“Hey, you said your dick would chafe going commando and since your dick is the only part of this vacation that has gone right so far, I’d like to keep it in good working order.”  I admit I’m a pretty laid back guy, but I am quickly reaching my own tipping point here and while Karl has the tendency to go all Hulk SMASH, I am more of the ugly crying type. Just think of yourself after you saw _Marley and Me_ for the first time. See what I mean? I take a deep breath and try to be stern, why the fuck not, everything else has failed.  “It’s either this or searching eBay for some other unfortunate traveler’s under britches, so choose wisely.”

By now the salesman had led us to the panty department and he is clearing his throat to get our attention. Karl looks at him with his Dredd face in full force and the man just motions in the direction of his size before beating a wise and strategic retreat out of earshot. Before he turned to go, my eyes landed on my salvation; a pair of leopard skin panties just Karl’s size.

“Karl,” I whisper. “Look, leopard skin.”

“Have you lost what’s left of your mind, Chris?” He looks defeated again and badly in need of a nap. Come to that, I could use one too after this shit.

“Okay, well John Kennex was the “White Cheetah,” thought maybe you’d wanna be the “Tanned Leopard” RAWRR!”  I made a clawing motion with my hand ala John Kennex and I could see the wheels turning in his mind.

“Tanned Leopard?”

“Yeah man, my cock’s half hard right now thinking of you wearing these.” I casually brush the evidence of that statement against his hip as I reach forward to run the material over my fingertips.

I could see his green eyes darken with lust and the possibilities. Am I good or am I good? Chris Pine for the WIN!

“But what about the girlie bow?” He grumped, actually looking a bit disappointed.

“Bow is hot as FUCK, Karl.” It wasn’t but there was no way in fuck I was going to tell him that now, not this close to the promised land.

“You sure?” There is nothing cuter than a shy Karl Urban. Unless it’s shy Karl Urban asking to suck my cock, but I can’t afford to go there now…eye on the prize Pine, eye on the prize.

“Yeah Boo Bear and ummm, look at the red ones too.” I motion with my finger, my fully awake cock once again brushing against him.

Karl hastily grabs for the red and leopard panties and as I high-five myself in my own mind, I grab a white pair too. Can you picture what these will look like against his golden, tanned skin?  RAWRRR!

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quickly becoming a favorite of mine! I love these two crazy boys!
> 
> Mmmmm, the Tanned Leopard!! 
> 
> Next up, snorkeling with local wildlife!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl and Chris go snorkeling in hopes of seeing a sea turtle.

Captain’s Log, Stardate 2014.201, Day Two:  I saw a documentary on the Discovery Channel about sea turtles. They are majestic the way they seem to fly through the water with their sweet faces and placid personalities. No one tells you those little bastards bite…

 

“Can’t wait to meet a sea turtle, Karl.” I was pushing my left foot into a flipper.

“I’m sure they can’t wait to meet you too, Princess.”  Karl is wearing dark sunglasses and I can’t tell if he’s sincere or sarcastic. Honestly, I don’t care and to be honest, Karl looks so fucking hot today in his blue board shorts, his bare chest on full display I could care less about a little sarcasm.

He leans in and kisses me, taking my breath away and proving he was sincere about the turtles.  Karl is a child of the sea.  I should have known he would have a hard-on for ocean life.

I finish getting my feet into the flippers and we flop off toward the surf. Karl is mucking around with my diving mask to make sure it forms a good seal around my face and that it isn’t so tight I pass out underwater.  He places it over my head, his warm fingers lingering on my face. I remember later thinking, “Fuck the turtles, let’s go back to bed.” But then Karl is tugging me to the water’s edge.

 “Son of a bitch, fuck me, arse…” Karl yelped. He abruptly broke contact with my hand. I turned my head to see my ever graceful boyfriend, crazily side stepping as he continued to trip on his unwieldy flippers. The drunken frog-stepping came to a tragic, yet hilarious end when Karl splashed into the surf, crashing with the left side of his face planted into the sand and rushing water.

I tried, no seriously, I tried hard not to laugh but I lost the battle when I saw the piece of greenish seaweed stuck in his hair and then I lost the war when Karl came up sputtering. The entire left side of his face was covered in sand and there was a jaunty purple shell stuck into his cheek. I wondered briefly if he would kill me for taking it home as a souvenir of our trip. I was laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe, but knew I needed to get myself under control before Karl resurfaced. I had no doubt he would be able to kill me while snorkeling and make it look like an accident. Dead men tell no tales, ya know!

Thankfully I came back to my senses and rushed to his side to help pull him back to his feet. He flinched slightly when I plucked the errant shell from his cheek. Karl was too busy spitting out the beach to notice I pocketed the shell.  I clapped his shoulder, “You okay, man.”

“Yeah, Chris, peachy.” His lip snarl was in full effect. It struck me now would be a good time to suggest that we go back to our room where Karl could spend the remainder of the day balls deep in my ass. I love that snarly lip of his and was just about to trace over it with my tongue when he grabbed my snorkel and shoved it in my mouth. Ordinarily, I loved it when Karl Urban shoved something into my mouth, but I wasn’t feeling this for some strange reason.

We swam out to the nearby coral reef. I was determined to enjoy the peace and quiet for as long as it lasted. Truth be told, one of the reasons I agreed to go snorkeling aside from the possibility of seeing sea turtles was the fact that Karl could not talk, complain, kvetch or scream underwater. Spoiler Alert! I was so very, very wrong.

Karl tapped my shoulder and motioned further down the reef, slowly gliding through the water was a sea turtle.  Karl’s eyes were shining with happiness for me. I fell in love with the big, silly Kiwi all over again in that moment. He knew how special this moment was for me and was excited for me despite the rather nightmarish start to this vacation.

I motioned toward the turtle and Karl urged me to go on without him. I gave him the “ok” signal and swam toward my destiny.  The turtle met me half way, stopping to watch me as I managed float. It bumped its round head against my shoulder as it started to swim around me. I let out a bit of a giggle when the turtle ran its flipper along my back as it swam over me. I was turned around half way watching it in awe, when Karl started to swim up alongside of me. The turtle swam up to him and head-butted him. I didn’t remember seeing any of the sea turtles in the Discovery Channel documentary act like that and just figured it was just the turtle’s way of greeting Karl.

The turtle swam back to me, rubbing itself against my hand. I reached out to stroke it and made the mistake of looking up at Karl. His face was incredulous. As if there was something wrong with making kissey face with an animal that had just assaulted him. When was I ever going to get a chance to get this close to a sea turtle ever again?

Karl swam back over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder to get my attention, he motioned back toward shore with his hand. I was about to nod my head in agreement when the turtle swam past Karl and slapped his face with his flipper. I could actually hear the sound of the slap underwater. I felt laughter bubble up in my chest and it was a struggle to choose between continuing to breathe through the snorkel or laughing at the seemingly jealous antics of the turtle. Who, by the way had swum back to my side and was nuzzling against me happily.

Karl had a stunned look on his face. I shrugged my shoulders at him and continued to make my way back toward shore. Karl made the mistake of swimming up next to me. My sweet little turtle love nuzzled my side one last time before turning to Karl and biting his ass.

Karl let out an unholy yell. Dispelling the myth that underwater no one can hear you scream. You learn something new every day and speaking of new, I also didn’t remember the bastards at the Discovery Channel mentioning that sea turtles bite. I couldn’t see if Karl was bleeding and didn’t want to take any chances what with sharks being able to sense a drop of blood in million gallons of water. What? I watch a lot of Discovery Channel, so shoot me! Which is probably what Karl was going to do when we made it back to shore. If we made it back to shore.  We both surfaced as we continued to swim. I looked back when I heard a loud splash from behind us. It was the turtle slapping its flipper against the water.  “Just keep swimming Karl, no matter what happens, just keep swimming.” I snorted out a giggle when turtle slapped the water again.

I knew I would have some tall apologizing to do as I came to the conclusion the fuckers at Discovery Channel lie telling the unsuspecting turtle diving population that these animals are sweet and majestic. Sweet and majestic, my ass! Or rather Karl’s ass…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of a love sick sea turtle totally cracked me up. I don't know if sea turtles bite or head butt when they are threatened, it just seemed like something they would do. Obviously Chris watches far more Discovery Channel than I do!!
> 
> Do you get the idea Chris is going to write a strongly worded letter to the Discovery Channel with photographic proof that those little bastards bite?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl Urban vs. The Seagull

Captain’s Log, Stardate 2014.202. Day Three: One of the best and worst things about Karl Urban is his casual disregard for personal space. There is no such thing as, “this is your dance space, this is my dance space” ala _Dirty Dancing_. I did not think it was possible to meet a creature with less regard for personal space than Karl Urban. As was becoming par for the course on this vacation, I was wrong…

 

After a quick trip to the hotel medic, Karl and I spent the rest of yesterday holed up in our hotel room watching _Doctor Who_ on Netflix. I learned I am surprisingly accommodating when the love of my life is at risk for contracting salmonella poisoning from an amorous sea turtle. I sat and watched the show with him even though I knew fuck all about what on earth was going on. Timelords, Daleks and Cybermen, Oh my! Yeah, I made the mistake of pointing out that the Cybermen looked a bit like the Tin Woodman from the _Wizard of Oz_ and the look Karl gave me could have frozen the sun. I kept my mouth shut after that and laughed when he laughed and cried when he cried. Sometimes being an actor comes in handy off-set too!

Today, however was another day as someone famously once said. I was determined that Karl and I would have a wonderful day. Well okay, I was determined we’d have a great day. FINE, I was determined that Karl wouldn’t end up having to see the hotel medic again. He kept joking yesterday that if _Star Trek_ were real, Bones could have healed himself. We both stopped laughing at that joke after the fourth time the doctor made it.

We’re sitting on the beach in these magnificently cushy lounge chairs. I’m reading a new biography on the fascinating (Hello, Mr. Spock!) life of Charles Lindbergh while Karl is throwing back Corona’s and reading his way through this huge stack of comic books. We had made a pact before we left that there would be no work on this vacation although it made me sad to think about the stack of unread scripts sitting in my office back in L.A. Similarly, I couldn’t help but wonder if the stack of comics had anything to do with a role he was trying to land. Karl is sneaky that way…

“You getting hungry, Chris?” Karl’s eyes glittered over the edge of his sunglasses.

One thing that never varies when it comes to Karl Urban are mealtimes. I swear sometimes he’s like a lion at the zoo, he gets cranky and starts to pace if it gets too close to feeding time with no meal in sight.  Now I wasn’t really hungry, but after learning the hard way that answer was never the correct one, I nodded “eagerly” and let him know I’d gladly share what he was having.  We’re both pretty health conscious guys, we have to be in Hollywood, no one wants to see a fat Doctor McCoy lecturing the Enterprise crew on good health, but we had made yet another pact that we would eat whatever the hell we wanted on this trip, which when Karl was in charge of ordering food, meant something battered and deep fried.  My plan was to pretend to eat, all the while hoping local wildlife would clean up after me.

Karl came back a few minutes later with a new Corona for each of us and a platter of deep fried pickles.

“Are you serious, they deep fry pickles now?” I was doing my best impersonation of Karl’s eyebrow lift.

“What’re you asking me for, this was invented in America.” Karl started to giggle.

Ordinarily, I would take great exception to being blamed for the culinary shortcomings of my fellow Americans, but Karl was smiling. Thus far today no one had “stolen” his belongings, persuaded him to buy ladies under britches or bitten him, I was going to be a good sport and just let this one go.

He dug in with relish… not actual pickle relish because he had pickles. Oh nevermind, he dug in with enthusiasm and it didn’t take long for him to ask why I wasn’t trying one too.  The foolish things I do for love. I picked up one of the pickle rounds and dunked it in the sauce as he watched expectantly for me to put the pickle in my mouth. Sometimes these things just write themselves… Much to my chagrin, they were delicious.

“I knew you’d like ‘em Chris, damned genius American whoever it was that thought of this.” Karl picked up another pickle, dunked it and was dangling it over his mouth when out of nowhere, a seagull swooped in and plucked the pickle from his hand. “What the actual fuck!” He yelled, truly stymied at this turn of events.

Now I’m not one to lie, so I’m just going to give it to you straight. I was expecting something like this to happen long before it did. I was expecting him to trip or step on a shell or get eaten in one of those highly publicized land shark attacks. It was a true miracle something like this hadn’t happened sooner in the day.

Well, I threw caution to the wind, because at this point what else was left to do. Karl gave me the snarly upper lip and muttered to himself about local wildlife being “Pinenuts.” I went back to my book and another pickle when a dark shadow sailed past me and grabbed another pickle right out of Karl’s hand. He looked at me with murder in his heart and I was afraid for my life.

“Any reason these rats with wings are all over me but they’re leaving you alone, Chris?” Karl’s eyebrow was arched and his cute little face was in full grump mode.

 I could think of a lot of reasons why the gulls were after him, but after thinking them through and carefully discarding them all in a bid to save my own life, I just shrugged at him.

Karl opened his mouth to respond when the hungry gull landed on the arm of his lounge chair and began to devour the remaining pickles. Karl stared open-mouthed at the ballsy bird who screeched his thanks once the pickles were gone and flew away.

I was hiding my face in my book, laughing so hard the muscles in my stomach were cramping. Karl stood and with as much dignity as he could muster, gathered his comic books into his arm. He finished his beer and made a grab for mine, guzzling it all down. He punctuated slamming the bottle back down with a large belch, which made me laugh even harder.

“Bite me, Pine.” He said sarcastically before marching back to the hotel room, happily leaving me with my book. Ahhhh vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can see where the seagull and our boys are coming from. NaughtyPastryChef and ReadItHoney introduced me to deep fried pickles last month in Atlanta and they are AMAZING!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bone jarring shower sex!

Captain’s Log, Stardate 2014.203. Day Four: Shower sex seems romantic and adventurous. It’s hot and wet and slippery. The key word in that sentence of course, being slippery…

 

“Fuck that feels good, Chris.” My lips were presently wrapped around Karl Urban’s hard cock. Yo Ho, Yo Ho, a butt pirate’s life for me! I let out a giggle that I try to disguise as me gagging on Karl’s meat, but he’s not fooled. “Something funny, Princess?”

I slip my lips off his meat. “Just had a song stuck in my head.”

Karl’s eyebrow shoots to the top of his forehead like a striker in a strongman game at a county fair. I giggle again at the image of Karl swinging the heavy mallet and winning me a cheap teddy bear as a prize. Not that I wouldn’t cherish the ugly thing until the end of my days, mind you. I lick out at the head of his cock, hoping my talented tongue will distract him from my previous giggles. Honestly, this is no laughing matter; sex is the one area of this vacation that has gone perfectly.  Knock on wood, wish upon a star, step on a crack break your mother’s back, break a leg and all that jazz. Of course now my stupid brain is singing, _“_ _I'm gonna rouge my knees_ _, And roll my stockings down, And all that jazz.”_ I break into another uncontrollable fit of the giggles and I can hear Karl sigh heavily from high above me.

“Chris, can you resume your fucking sing-along AFTER you finish swallowing my dick.” He’s got both arms crossed over his chest and his eyes have me in the crosshairs of their green fire.

I break off a mock salute and go back to sucking Karl’s brain out through his dick. I can feel him start to relax again as his hands tangle in my wet hair. The muscles in his legs start to relax a bit too under my hands. Karl is starting to moan, deep in the back of his throat and I know he’s about to come. I push myself back a tiny bit, knowing he’s going to start fucking my mouth at any second like he always does when he’s about to come. Just as I moved back, Karl’s hips snapped forward and his left foot shot out from under him. His hands ripped out of my hair and slammed against the shower wall scrabbling for purchase. His right foot slipped forward, knocking into me and knocking me flat onto my ass and slamming the back of my head against the shower door as he crashed onto his ass right in front of me.

I shook my head to help clear it of the stars I was now seeing. _Space, the final frontier, these are the voyages of the starship Enterprise…_ An angry Kiwi voice stopped my recitation cold in its tracks.

“God damned, motherfucking, son of a bitching, arsehole, bugger, shit, piss, FUCK!”

“I think you left out cocksucker, Karl.” I manage to say as I rub weakly at the lump forming at the back of my skull.

Even Karl had to laugh at that one.

Two hours later we were back in our hotel room after yet another visit to the hotel medic.  We suffered, once again, through more jokes about Doctor McCoy and his tri-corder and physician heal thyself, and all that jazz…FUCK, not again. Anyway, the long and the short of it is that Karl has a badly bruised tailbone and I have a lump on the back of my head and one helluva headache. Karl was handed a snazzy donut pillow for his aching ass and I was told to take a couple aspirin and call him in the morning.  Har-dee-har-har-har…

On the bright side, I was rewarded with a heart stopping smile when I suggested to Karl we could crawl into bed and watch more Doctor Who. I still had not one fucking clue what in hell a T.A.R.D.I.S was, but I knew what an U.R.B.A.N was and that was good enough for me. Goodnight sweet Prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Karl!! Nothing like needing a donut pillow on vacation!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl and Chris are off for a romantic sunrise walk.

Captain’s Log, Stardate 2014.203. Day 5: Beyonce sings, “I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly.” She’s obviously been on vacation with Karl Urban…

 

Karl was being amazingly stalwart about his aching ass. The lump on the back of my head is feeling much better too, thank you for asking. Karl and I stayed in bed for the rest of the day watching Netflix and giving each other long, slow, leisurely hand jobs.

Don’t think we didn’t take precautions with the hand jobs. There were rules; no sharp objects within a twenty yard radius, no hot or cold drinks nearby, no glass. I had to put my reading glasses in the other room, just in case. We were both so paranoid that we put a moratorium on swallowing. It was a choke hazard. Insert your own joke here, I know you’ve got one. That last rule was a hard one for me because Karl tastes like sunshine and tropical fruit.

My sweet Kiwi woke up the next morning full of happiness and rainbows…at zero dark thirty. I fucking HATE morning people.

“Chris.” He was shaking my shoulder and poking me in the ass with his morning wood. “Let’s go watch the sunrise over the ocean.”

To be honest, I was more interested in his cock rising over the full moon of my naked ass. He sounded so excited about the sunrise I couldn’t bear to disappoint him. What the hell, we could make out on the beach. Who the hell else would be up and about at this time of the morning?

We dressed quickly and were almost out the door when I noticed Karl had left his donut pillow on the side table.  “Aren’t you going to bring your donut?”

His face scrunch was incredibly sexy even though it made him look like a five year old in an adult body. “No Chris, not going to bring that ridiculous pillow on a romantic sunrise trip to the beach.”

Well, duh. Who was I to argue? Famous last words…

 

The air was fresh and cool when we stepped outside. It was still mostly dark and now that we were here, I was glad we were doing this together.  I couldn’t honestly tell you when the last time was I saw a sunrise, however I know for a fact, I have never seen one voluntarily.  I’m more of a night owl, in case you hadn’t already guessed.

Under my feet, the sand was cool and damp. Karl reached out and tangled his hand in mine. I love the way he touches me when we’re alone. His hands hold all the confidence in the world.

He tugged harder on my hand, pulling away from me as he challenged, “Race you to the surf.”

I let him go. Fuck knows after the week we’ve had Karl deserved to win at something.

“What the ever loving FUCK?” Karl sounded surprised. He shouldn’t have, but he did just the same.

Well, that five seconds of win was absolutely worth it. Karl had stopped running and instead seemed to be high stepping like a flashy tight end on his way to the end zone. I took out my phone and started snapping pics of his crazy dance.

“What is it Karl? Plague of locusts? Ocean of blood? Frogs?”

“Feels like fucking jelly.”

“I don’t think you’re ready for _that_ jelly, Kiwi.” I could see his eyebrow tent from fifty feet away. “What is this shit?”

Fucked if I knew! What I did know, is that question was Karl’s way of telling me to get my ass over there. I walked slowly to the spot where Karl started to high kick and could faintly make out the beach was covered in blobs of what looked like clear gelatin. “Jellyfish.” I called out to Karl.

“Hmm, makes sense. C’mon Princess, we have a sunrise to catch.” That beautiful, Kiwi bastard was completely unfazed that he was stepping through a jellyfish burial ground. Now I admit, I don’t know much about nature, but I seem to have become an expert this week in curses and this one was going to be a doozy.

“No.” I crossed my arms and made my stand in the sand. I was not taking one more step.

“What?”

“Jellyfish burial ground, Karl, plus aren’t these things poisonous?” I was proud that I had given him two valid reasons. Abandon hope all ye who enter here.

He reached down for a jelly and held it up for me to see, shaking its tiny body. “It’s dead, Jim.” His giggle was infectious and I reluctantly joined in with him.

I began walking forward to where Karl was waiting for me. “Motherfucking ewwww.” I could feel their slimy little bodies breaking apart under my feet. “How much further?” I bitched.

Karl’s very mature response was to fling a handful of dead jellies at me. They made a funny thwapping sound when they slapped against my face. The only thing to do was fight fire with…erm, jelly with jelly. I scooped up a handful of cold, dead –bleck- jellyfish. I let them fly at my gorgeous boyfriend, splattering him up and down.

“You throw like a girl, Princess.” The devious bastard was smirking at me.

“Like a girl? Fuck you, Urban. I was a star pitcher on my college baseball team.” It’s true, I was. So there!

“Course you were, it was a Liberal Arts school, you’re only competition were other bookworms.”

Of course you realize THIS means war!  I mounded a handful of jellies, wound up and pitched. “Strike one!” I crowed when my slimeball slapped against Karl’s right cheek.

“That the best you got, Pinenut?”

As gross as this was, I was having the time of my life. This is what I envisoned this vacation to be, fun on the beach with Karl, well minus his missing underpants and our troubles with local wildlife.  I gathered another handful of jellies and was in the middle of my wind up when Karl stumbled backward and landed hard on his already sore ass.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” Karl’s yell was so loud, I could hear it echoing across the water.

I ran to the poor bastard’s side. “Shoulda stayed in bed, shoulda insisted he fuck me, but noooo, I had give in to his smile and those fuckin’ dimples. Come on Princess let’s go watch the sunrise, he said, it will be fun, he said. Stupid, beautiful Kiwi…”

“Can you stop yapping to yourself and help me the fuck up?”

Yapping? Fuck, I guess my inner monologue had turned into an outer monologue somewhere along the way. I reached out my hands and got him back on his feet.

Karl pointed at me. “Not one fucking word about my donut pillow.”

No shit, I was a lot of things, but crazy wasn’t one of them, well at least not yet. Plus I didn’t have a death wish.

We made our way back to the patio. I was about to suggest more Doctor Who. By the way, Whovians, how many episodes of that show are there? Fuck me, _War and Peace_ was shorter and less angst filled.  My mental rant about Doctor Who was stopped by the sound of Karl laughing. It was high pitched and on the edge of hysteria. I honestly thought I would be the first one to go bananas, but Karl beat me to it. When I looked up at him, he shrugged and pointed to a sign hammered into the sand. Obviously we had missed it in the dark.

BEWARE, BEACH CLOSED  
MASS JELLYFISH BEACHING  
STAFF WILL CLEAN AT SUNRISE

At that moment, I would have given anything to see a madman in a blue box!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was laughing my ass off over, “I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly!”
> 
> Chris Pine did play baseball in college, though I am unsure if he pitched. I thought he did, but a tiny voice is whispering second base…
> 
> We all know Karl Urban is a huge Doctor Who fan, so am I. It’s a headcanon that Chris bitches about it, but secretly loves it!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a hurricane a'comin!

Captain’s Log, Stardate 2014.205. Day 6: Little did I know that my earlier statement about going on vacation with Hurricane Urban would come back to haunt me…

 

Karl and I had our first real fight of the trip after the incident with the jellyfish. I suggested he see the hotel medic in case he broke his tailbone and he suggested I go fuck myself. Ordinarily that would have been a great idea but for the fact I was worried I’d give myself leprosy and my dick would rot off as a result.  Thankfully the fight didn’t last long, since we were stuck in the hotel room together.

We had been so busy watching Doctor Who and licking our wounds (instead of each other) that we hadn’t paid any attention to the local news. In hindsight, I should have seen this coming. I should have known this vacation from hell wasn’t done with us yet. I just didn’t think my doom would have my name written on it. Two words for you: Hurricane Kirk. Of all the fucking men’ s names that start with the letter “K.” Kristoff, Klaus, Kenny, Keith, Kevin, fuck, even Kris or Karl, and it had to be fuckin’ Kirk. I felt like there was a giant bull’s-eye on my back.

Karl was more thoughtful about the whole thing. He demanded to know where I’d stashed all of the bottles of Grey Goose I’d been hoarding since we’d gotten here.  I managed to find four bottles in various states of fullness. I had no doubt housekeeping (You want me jerk you off?) would find more bottles after checkout, if we survived to check out that was…

Once he had a full glass of Goose, the Dredd (Snort!) Pirate Urban was happy as a clam. Newsflash, it didn’t last long.

“Why is the damned cyclone named after you and not me?”

F.M.L. Or what was left of it anyway. I dug deep to find a non-confrontational tone of voice with which to answer his (stupid, fucking) question. I failed. “Firstly, it’s called a hurricane. They call these storms cyclones in that backward sheep-humping country you come from. Secondly, it’s named after me because it’s coming to kill me. It’s the perfect cherry on top of the shit sundae that is our vacation.” Have I told you I have a flair for the dramatic? I could feel tears pricking the back of my eyes and turned away so Karl couldn’t see me breaking apart.

Strong, warm arms wrapped around me from behind, moments later. Karl pulled me back against the heat of his chest.

“I’ve been a total dick, Chris. Nothing that’s happened on this vacation has been your fault and I’ve been acting like it is. You’ve been so good dealing with my meltdowns, missing knickers and my animal mishaps and I just didn’t think about how hard this must have been for you.”

This is why I love that big, dumb, totally romantic man so much. He comes through in the clutch. He was right, he had been a bit of a dick, but I wasn’t going to rub salt in his wounds by telling him I agreed with him whole-heartedly. He had been through enough. I turned in his arms, burrowing into his warmth.

“Love you, Princess.”

“Love you too Karl. I’m glad we’re gonna die together.”

“Come on, sweetheart, it’s not as bad as all that...”

 

In typical Urban/Pine vacation style, it was worse…

Hurricane Kirk would make landfall as a category 1 storm, meaning the winds would only top out at 80MPH. According to the locals, it was just a baby storm. The hotel staff had boarded up all the windows and glass doors for safety, so Karl and I were sitting in the semi-darkness, watching (more) Doctor Who on Netflix. Well that was until the power went out after one screaming blast of wind and we were left totally in the dark. Worse than being totally in the dark was being without WIFI!

“KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRK!” We both yelled, shaking our fists and laughing uncontrollably, which may or may not have something to do with our bounty of Grey Goose. We had long abandoned glasses and had resorted to sipping from the bottle like pirates. Karl had grabbed two pair of his gorgeous red panties and had fastened them to our heads to look like do-rags. I drew the line at eye patches, not wanting to tempt fate by putting anything near our eyes!

I was not so maniacal in my rule that I did not allow pirate songs. We sang “Yo Ho, Yo Ho a pirate’s life for me.” After that we ran out of pirate songs, so we started to sing songs that we knew. The melody of bad pop songs started with _MmmBop_ and ended with a rather risqué version of _All The Single Ladies_. After that it morphed quickly into bad country tunes, which I whole-heartedly blame on the Goose! The last and final ditty of the impromptu sing-along was One Hundred Bottles Of Rum on the wall…it got ugly after that! Why is the rum gone?

“Chris, since we’re gonna die, I gotta make a confession.” Somewhere along the line, Karl had picked up my flare for the dramatic.

“Okay Karl, I’m listening.” We were tangled together in a pillow fort on the floor of our room. What the hell, when were we ever gonna get another chance to build a pillow fort?

“I think I left my underroos at home.” I could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

“So the TSA didn’t purloin your panties?”

“That may have been a slight exaggeration on my part.”

We burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh again, felt good to just be Karl and Chris.  “What happened?”

“I may have packed, unpacked and re-packed.” He whispered, as if saying it quietly would make it sound any less ridiculous.

“Whaaaat?” Of all the dumbass, foolish, infuriating things…

“My suitcase wasn’t neat enough when I packed it the first time, so I unpacked it, then re-packed it. I bet my pantaloons are sitting on the bed in the spare bedroom. You mad, Princess?”

I admit I had been kind of mad listening to Karl rant and rave about the TSA and then about having to wear women’s panties, but none of that mattered here in the dark with a hurricane lashing our hotel. “No baby, not mad at all.  Just promise you’ll keep the panties to wear for special occasions.”

“They’ll always remind me of this awful vacation, Chris.”

He had a point. “You know, it would have been cheaper and safer if we had just bought condoms and lube and stayed home.”

“Next time, Princess, next time we will.”

The lights in the hotel room flickered back to life. I hopped out of the blanket fort to shut them off before returning to the love of my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line in the summary about “A hurricane a’comin” is a line spoken by Sophia in The Golden Girls.
> 
> The Dredd Pirate Urban is a tip of the cap to The Princess Bride and Judge Dredd!
> 
> “Housekeeping, you want me jerk you off?” Is in homage to Tommy Boy and to NaughtyPastryChef and ReadItHoney who kept reciting those “Housekeeping” lines all last weekend at the motel in Williamstown, MA where we were supposed to see Chris in Fool For Love…he had to pull out a few weeks ago and NOT in a good way!
> 
> “Why is the rum gone?” Is of course from Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean. 
> 
> Let me know if you want to see more Urbine. I have two ideas in the works at the moment, one of them for Chris’ birthday which is at the end of the month. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting! Urbine is a tiny ship, but I'm gonna sail the fuck out of it, Avast me hearties, YO HO!


End file.
